Soundtrack from Secretary
by Houseketeer
Summary: Warning: this fic contains BDSM. I used to say tasteful BDSM, but a reader has recently informed me that this description is erroneous, and that reading the story makes her want to excise part of her brain. It will be safer to simply avoid reading it.
1. Soundtrack From Secretary

Author's Note: I've wanted to write something like this a long time, and Dragynflies's birthday has provided the perfect opportunity. It's a departure, so if you don't like it, please don't stop reading my stories altogether.

He debates a long time before finally picking up the phone. Then he hangs up before he finishes dialing her number. Four times. This time he hears it ringing on her end. His heart is thundering in his chest, and he's about to hang up when he hears her answer.

"House?"

"Cameron." On the other end he can hear her shallow breathing. He imagines how she must look right now: barely sitting, poised for flight, tension showing in every muscle. If he's misread her, this could go so wrong—he could lose her and his job instantly. He fights with hanging up, listens to her breathing. "Unlock your front door, take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed with your back to the door and **do not move**." He waits for some kind of objection, but hears none. "Now." He hears the receiver drop into the cradle.

He pours himself a finger of scotch and wonders how long he can make himself wait before leaving.

oOoOo

For a second she sits by the phone, eyes closed and smiling. "Finally," she breathes.

All day long she'd been kicking herself that her chance had come (again) and she'd botched it (again). But she is lucky after all; he's figured her out despite her lies. She bounces off the couch and unlocks the front door, then scampers eagerly to the bedroom. She strips and tosses the clothes in the basket in her closet. Her pose on the bed is careful: back to the door, on her knees, with about half of each calf hanging over the edge. Dark waves hang around her face, blocking her peripheral vision. 

She waits.

She has no idea what to expect. He might be planning to fuck her; he might be planning to leaver her waiting for days. He might be planning to spank her.

The _idea_ of some discipline in the boudoir has always got her hot, but until tonight she has seriously doubted she ever wanted the _reality_ of it. Now though, she is so turned on she thinks she will do anything he says and beg for more. She has never been this turned on. She is so wet that she can feel a tickling drip down her inner thigh. She wants to wipe it away. She wants to touch herself, fuck herself. She could come so easily right now, but his words are echoing in her mind. "**Do not move."**

She doesn't.

oOoOo

_Earlier that day, at PPTH…_

Cameron sits at the conference table, silently working on her charting while Chase works a crossword and Foreman eats his lunch. House comes up behind her. "New iPod? What are you listening to?" Her hand moves to grab it, but he is faster. When he reads the display, his mind starts churning with _what this might mean_, but he tries to sound casual as he tests her. "Soundtrack from _Secretary._ Good movie?"

"I just like the music," she sputters. "I mean, the movie's alright. I just like James Spader movies. And Maggie Gyllenhaal."

"Huh," he says. He returns the iPod to the table, and escapes to his office. Her answer was too fast, too earnest: she was lying. It was too easy to draw conclusions about a young, brunette, ingénue doctor listening to the soundtrack of a film about a young, brunette, ingénue secretary. Engaging in BDSM. With her boss. Whom she loves.

Images from the film flood his mind, with himself and Cameron inserted. Cameron bent over his desk. Cameron eating from the palm of his hand. Cameron tied against a tree while he fucks her, hard.

He will think of nothing else the rest of the day.

oOoOo

She hears him open the door and walk in onto the hardwood floor of the living room. Her head involuntarily turns to look behind her, but she catches herself and jerks it back. Her alarm clock has been annoyingly out of her vision, and she has managed not to peek; she has no idea how much time has passed since his call. She lost count after about fifteen minutes, and she guesses it may have been as long as three hours.

Really it was closer to one and a half.

Now she spends all her energy on listening. On trying to detect what he's doing out there.

House takes off his shoes for stealth. He walks slowly and silently to her bedroom door, and allows himself the briefest of glances at her. He holds his breath for a count of ten seconds, then looks again. And stares. Turning his back to her and returning to the living room takes all his will. He sits on the couch. Waits.

He's fully hard, throbbing. His whole body throbs; he can feel his pulse in every extremity. He's torturing himself with waiting for her, to the point that he is in agony. He decides on fifteen minutes, and he thinks that these fifteen minutes will be worse than the whole three years he has already made himself wait.

He only makes it through five.

Now he is walking fast and purposeful to her bedroom, and she hears him coming. She hears the pound of the cane as it hits her floor, hard, then hears the noise suddenly come to a stop when he's standing right behind her. She shakes with anticipation.

She sighs heavily when she feels his large right hand at the middle of her spine. Then it slides down the dip of her back, onto her right buttock. He gently squeezes, traces his thumb back and forth twice on her smooth white skin, then lets it rest there. _'Ohmygod he's going to,'_ she thinks. When she squeezes her pelvic floor muscle he feels her ass shiver under his hand.

Abruptly she does **not** feel his hand on her, and she braces for the impact. His hand swings back and there is a loud thwack of skin on skin and she shakes and gasps. Her chin jerks as she realizes he has not hit her, but his own left palm.

She feels his hands on her hips. His touch almost burns: his skin is impossibly hot from the slap, like the skin of her face has been since she heard it. Since that moment her perception of the scenario has changed from '_christ, that might be sexy' _to '_ohmygod, give it to me NOW.' _She bends her knees slightly and her ass grinds against the fly of his jeans.

He steps back from her and removes his clothes. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and listens carefully, trying to predict his next move. Seconds tick by and she wishes she had counted them.

Without warning she feels a slap on the right side of her ass, and he's happy that her sigh sounds exactly like ecstasy. He hits her again, still nowhere near hard enough to really hurt. It merely pinks up her pretty skin, and drives her mad with lust. He hasn't said she must be quiet, so she whispers, "I want you."

He presses the head of his cock to her and slides in tantalizingly slow. When he's inside, she sighs contentedly, "_Oh_." Then a clap as he slaps her. "Oh!"

She grips the sheets and forces herself back into his thrusts. They fuck hard and hungry because every second since he called has been like full sex—hours of foreplay. She's dripping sweat down her face, arousal down her thighs. She's noisy; he loves it. He feels like he's going to explode and he does, "Cameron," slamming into her and rubbing her clit, feeling her clutch his cock and spasm under his fingers. They collapse into a sweaty, panting heap of arms and legs.

Each of them loves this closeness as much as the other would wish. They hold each other; observe the other's heart rate and respiration. Privately gloat at how they've affected each other.

Suddenly he kisses her forehead and stands. She kneels on the bed and sits back on her heels, watching him dress like a puppy who knows her special person is leaving. He moves to her dresser. "I'm going to pick you out some pajamas," he says. She is elated and relieved that it's not all over. He rifles through the drawers, taking a casual look at all of her things and then making his selection. "Here, I want to see you in it before I go."

She slips into the clothes he hands her: a tiny pair of white cotton bikini-style panties and white knee socks.

He gulps: he's not sure he'll be able to leave. "What time is your alarm set for?"

"Seven."

"At seven o'clock, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone and hold it to your ear, and I want to listen to you make yourself come."

Cameron's whole body shudders and her eyes flick closed. She exhales noisily, and nods. Unexpectedly he folds her in his arms, kisses her hard and deep. He leaves her standing dumbfounded for a moment.

Then she comes to her senses; locks the front door and turns out the lights. She pulls back the slightly rumpled bedding and climbs under the covers. She falls asleep with her hand in her panties, waiting for the phone to ring again.

FIN


	2. Very Bad Behavior

**Very Bad Behavior**

The phone and the alarm clock simultaneously shriek at seven am. Cameron smacks the clock's snooze, then turns the alarm off as she answers the cordless. "Hello?"

"Cameron."

In this context, her name is an order to follow and she can already feel herself responding to his voice. "Oh my god." Her hand slips inside her panties. She thinks, _the panties he picked out for me--that he wants to hear me fuck myself in_. Her middle finger slides inside, and she rubs that cream onto her clit. "Ungh," she moans into the phone.

"Tell me what you're doing."

Cameron shudders. This command, the fact that he has told her to do this and she is obeying turns her on completely. "I'm--_oh!_--touching myself. I slide my finders in to get them slippery, then rub them--_ah!_--over my clit."

House has woken up hard, and his hand is curled around the shaft of his erection. Now at her words he begins to slide his hand up and down. He pictures her lying on her back with the phone to her ear, her hand partly hidden by the tiny white cotton panties he left her in. Fucking herself. For him.

On her end, all Cameron can hear is his shallow breathing. She imagines him touching himself, and that idea spurs her on; she moans into the phone over and over, thinking about him. She can hear his words repeating as she desperately rubs her fingers against her clit. _'Pick up the phone and hold it to your ear, and I want to listen to you make yourself come. Tell me what you're doing.' _Now she is squirming in the bed, so close. She lifts her ass off the mattress over and over, so close to coming. She groans, "Oh_god_, House," begging for permission.

"Cameron, come."

"Oh. My. God. Oh!" House's ears are flooded with the sounds of her loud, repeated moans. She is so noisy, so clearly getting off to him that he doubles at the waist, coming in hot streams on the bedding. Cameron can hear just that one strong grunt from him as he comes for her, then the click of him disconnecting the call. For a few moments she lets her fingers continue to lazily caress herself; he has got her so silky wet. She smiles. Lovely start to the day. 

oOoOo

She brings in his coffee cup—sugar in the coffee just like Mr. Grey in the film; it's why she's always loved making it for him. She sets it on his desk, and he doesn't look up. She self-consciously wonders if the he is ignoring her or if it's only part of the scenario. Cameron walks to the front of the desk, leans over, and rests her forearms on it. She looks up at him provocatively. His eyes haven't lifted from his video game.

"No patient, so I lent you to Immunology for the day."

Her eyes widen slightly, and she watches him for any sign of feeling, of not wanting her on the other side of the hospital for the whole day. He betrays nothing, which could mean anything. He might be regretting this, like Mr. Grey in the film. He might only be feigning regret as part of the game. Either way, her next step must be the same: she will provoke him.

She rises from the desk with a sigh, intentionally letting her disappointment show. But that smidgen of sass is not enough to make him even look at her. At her desk she pauses to send an email, then leaves for Immunology. 

oOoOo

Cameron enters the conference room with Chase and Foreman at her heels. The three have come from different areas of the hospital in response to the same page. New patient. Inside they find House and Cuddy arguing in raised voices.

"I did _not_ call them; I did _not_ authorize this case. It's diagnostically irrelevant."

"They have an email from _your_ account. You're taking the case."

House opens his mouth to continue the fight, but suddenly the meaning of Cuddy's words sink in far enough to be heard. His eyes flick to Cameron and then back to Cuddy. He smiles. Clever girl. "Give me the file."

Cuddy isn't sure how that worked, but she counts her blessings and doesn't argue. "Thank you." She hands it to him and returns to his office.

House moves to the whiteboard and begins the differential. He is purely business as usual. "Alright, this should be an easy one." 

oOoOo

Late that evening, Cameron walks into his dim office. "The patient is responding well to the steroids."

"Which you knew would happen the moment you read the file. This is why you were supposed to send that advice to his GP."

She wants to smile—victory—but there is a dangerous edge to his voice. Maybe she has gone too far, maybe she can't handle whatever the punishment will be for this infraction. She nods contritely and looks at the carpet. This move is half instinct, half acting. Her faces flushes scarlet and her heart races, bitter adrenaline on the back of her tongue. She feels lightheaded—high on endorphins. Her panties are soaking. She swallows hard and waits for his verdict.

"Go home, and leave the front door unlocked. Strip down to bra and panties, lie on your back in the middle of the bed, and **do not move**." She meets his eyes. "Now." She shakes a bit, but then walks out of the office without another word. 

oOoOo

When she hears the front door open and close, Cameron has no idea how long she has been lying motionless above her sheets. She is immediately reassured by the thump of his cane. He's here.

House walks in and pauses to look her over. She is laid out for him like a sacrifice. Creamy white skin is visible behind black lace lingerie. She is everywhere delicate, soft, and curved. His eyes fall on her hipbone, her navel, the rise and fall of her ribcage. She's absolutely perfect and he barely stops himself saying so out loud.

He pulls from the bag he carries a few items appropriated at the hospital. He delights in the little shake she gives that indicates a hard pelvic floor contraction when she sees the restraints. He secures first her ankles to the bed, then moves in to tie her right wrist. He kisses her wrist, then her fingertips. He can tell she has not touched herself, as directed. "Good girl." He finishes restraining her. "Test it."

Cameron struggles at her bonds, first gently and then with force, really pulling. She flops back onto the mattress. She's his until he releases her.

House sits on the edge of the bed and looks down onto her face. "Your behavior," he pauses, "was very bad." Cameron nods. "Willfully bad." She nods again.

With his right hand, House cups her cheek tenderly. Then he slowly slides his large hand down her neck and chest to cup her right breast. He moves his hand gently, barely touching her, just letting the rough lace and her hard nipple stimulate the palm of his hand.

Now he slides his hand down her body. His fingertips play on each rib, he traces every muscle. He teases her navel. His touch is just this side of tickling, and she squirms. She wants him.

His hand dips lower, and the tip of his index finger traces the waistband of her panties. She is rocking her pelvis, unconsciously mimicking sex, wanting more. The pads of his fingers slide over black lace, he cups her. He touches her, alternating between feather-light strokes over her damp clothing and massaging her outer lips with vigorous pressure. She arcs of the bed, it's nowhere near enough. "_Please_, I want you," she begs.

"No."

House's hands move to her knees. He spreads his fingers and caresses her inner thighs, dragging teasing patterns up and down her legs. His touch approaches her panties and occasionally he touches her there—toying, superficial touches that taunt her. "Fuck me," she pleads.

"No."

House retrieves the last item from his bag, a sharp scissors. He gives her a soothing look, then uses it to cut the straps of her bra. Now he cuts it off under her arm, pulls it free and throws it aside. She feels cold metal sliding against her hip; he cuts her panties on both sides, then grasps them between her thighs and pulls them away. He discards the scissors.

Her spread legs reveal that she is absolutely aroused, but he ignores this. Instead he bends to lick and kiss her nipples, to toy with her. She is mewling her mingled pleasure and dissatisfaction with every move he makes. It feels good—amazing—but not good enough. She wants to come so bad she can't think straight.

He lowers his hand to rest between her thighs, and she gasps in relief. Then she groans in frustration when his hand merely rests there. He presses his palm flat against her, and she bucks against him, trying to get off. She is almost there, but he pulls his hand away. This time it is enough to make her scream in disappointment.

Ignoring her clit, he slides first one, then two fingers into her, slow and steady. She fucks up off the mattress, she thrashes, she needs to climax, but he won't allow it. He gives her only enough contact to make her hungry for more, and now she is yelling for it. "More, _please_. Harder, please, _please_ I want to come so _bad_. PLEASE."

"No."

She falls silent and closes her eyes. She thinks if she concentrates she could come just from his fingers thrusting into her. He catches onto her game, and lets the tip of his thumb rub her clit gently. She can feel it building, a massive orgasm, so close—but then he stops touching her entirely

He leaves her there, throbbing, and undresses. Now he moves to kneel between her knees, and pauses. She looks him up and down: gorgeous muscles, rock hard cock. She makes a pouting noise. Her breathing is slowing, she is coming down. He touches her again, rubs her clit and again she is almost there, but now he is touching himself, kneeling over her and stroking his erection over and over.

"I want you inside me _now_." 

He groans aloud at this, but only strokes harder and faster. 

"House, _please_. Fuck me."

He ignores this. His pumping becomes urgent. He watches her below him, struggling at her bonds, trying to touch him. He moans, "Cameron," and hot come lands on her tummy.

She screams in aggravation. She is jerking hard at the restraints, but he's nowhere near finished with her. 

House lays on his belly and spreads her lips. He licks at her entrance, then her clit. He is fucking her perfectly with his mouth, just how she wants it, with one exception. He won't let her come. Minute after minute passes as she twists and squirms and bucks. She is dripping with sweat. She is beyond rational thought, reduced to aching, throbbing lust.

Her energy is flagging, and he notices. They've been going at it quite a while now, and she's had no relief or rest at all. He's worn her down; she'd do anything he told her right now. This thought has him hard again. She's his to take, and he will. He slides up her body and forces himself into her tight pussy. His arms wrap under her and he grips her shoulders. He fucks her, hard, and she struggles to gasp, "Yes, _please_, please fuck me, let me come. I want to come SO fucking _bad_."

House has already come once, he is in no rush. At the same time, straight fucking is not going to set her right off. He pushes into her over and over, hard and deep. She pulls at the ropes, she wants to wrap herself around him, push him into her, through her, but she can't get loose.

House licks and kisses at her collarbone, her neck. She feels his teeth grazing her skin, he nibbles at her, then bites down hard enough to bruise. The sudden unexpected pain releases endorphins; she thinks she will go mad. She no longer wastes her breath on begging, she is panting, pleading now only with her body, her motions as she brings her hips up urgently to meet his. He presses his cheek to hers and whispers in her ear, "Now Cameron. Come."

Cameron yells out at the intensity of it. All she can think is how it's unlike anything she's felt before; how she's never been fucked like this before, come this hard. Her whole body contracts and she moans over and over, squeezing his climax from his thrusting cock.

As soon as he can manage, he unties her, massages her wrists and ankles as she lies motionless, worn out.

He brings a glass of water and bottle of Advil from her bathroom and leaves it on her nightstand for her. He carefully rearranges her limbs so he can pull the blanket over her, and tucks her. She is senseless to most of this, but when he begins to dress, she looks up blearily. "Are you leaving?"

"I was yeah."

"Oh."

Her tone is so simultaneously sad yet accepting of his decision, that he can't resist her. He strips to just his boxers and slides into the cool crisp sheets. 


	3. A Present

**Ch. 3: A Present**

At the conference table, House is reading a new file and eating a bagel from the tipped bag. Cameron sets down his coffee and stands nearby, rifling through the stack of the day's mail. She feels a touch at her leg and looks down; the end of House's cane has grazed her thigh and is now lifting the hem of her skirt. She blushes and remembers the previous night. Before leaving her apartment he had laid out clothes for her to wear the next morning. Black patent leather sling-backs and a black skirt, the black over pink lace balconette bra, a printed puff sleeve blouse, and a black vest. No panties.

So she wasn't wearing any.

He silently lowers the cane and extends his palm. She bends and eats the torn piece of bagel from his hand. She is shocked at how it turns her on; she is always shocked at what becomes hot because _he_ does it. She almost doesn't hear when he says, "Get a CBC, chem panel—full work up." 

oOoOo

The doorbell rings.

Which is unusual. Cameron sets her book down on the coffee table and opens the door to reveal House holding a black gift box with a black tulle bow. She smiles and furrows her brow. A present. "What's all this?"

"You were very good today." House shoves the box at her and passes her; sits on the sofa. He sets a duffel bag on the floor, but Cameron hasn't noticed yet because she's shaking her box. "Open it in the bedroom and get changed."

Alone in her bedroom, Cameron pulls the tail of the bow and lifts off the lid. She pushes aside the tissue paper and pulls the pieces out, one at a time. At the sight of it, she is so wet she feels a wet trickle down her thigh. She changes quickly into an incredibly tiny black patent leather bra and bikini. Now she removes the last item in the box. She thinks of it as a necklace—jewelry—and she is thrilled to receive something in this category from him. It is a black leather collar, studded with silver. She looks in the mirror to fasten it around her neck. She admires the ensemble; she's never seen herself so sexy. Still, something is missing. She reaches for bright red lipstick and dark eyeliner—perfect.

House comes in carrying a digital camera attached to a tripod. He sets it at the foot of the bed, then turns and sees her. His jaw goes slack, and he exhales heavily. She smiles at his reaction. Then she notices the camera, and her eyes widen in apprehension. "Up on the bed," he says.

She opens her mouth, almost objecting by instinct. Her lower lip quivers.

House steps forward, and hooks his index finger in the metal d-ring of the collar. He looks steadily into her eyes. "You alright?"

She nods.

"Up on the bed."

She kneels on the bed, and he poses her on the white bedding. He angles her knees and positions her hands behind her head. She recognizes this pose instantly: Lee's pinup photo. Her skin is flushed and damp with mingled embarrassment and arousal.

Now House steps behind the camera, and takes frame after frame. She moves for him, provides him with new shots. Her hand slips into the bikini bottom to touch her clit; she can't help it. He gets the photo, but then walks over to her menacingly. He takes her wrist, and looking into her eyes, lifts her fingers to his mouth to lick. Then in one lightning fast motion, he pulls her by her wrist up from sitting on her heels to kneel, and smacks her ass.

Her jaw drops and she releases a shocked gasp. Now _his_ hand slips into the front of her panties, and she gasps again. "Impatient?"

"_Ah!_ I'm…sorry," she pants.

He shoves two fingers into her. "You can't wait?"

She gyrates her hips against his hand, trying to get more. "Please."

With one hand still inside her, he hooks his finger in the collar and pulls her mouth to his. His teeth graze her lips, her tongue—he is urgent, hungry, forceful. Now his hand cups her cheek, and he rubs his thumb over her smeared red lips. She parts her lips and gently bites at the tip of his thumb. "Next time, say please _before_, not _after the fact_." 

He slides out his hand out of her, and rubs his slippery fingers over the slick, shiny leather of her bikini bottom. She moans, dissatisfied; writhes against him. "House, _please_."

He pauses; makes her wait a moment. "Take it off," he says as he pulls his shirt over his head. Now Cameron kneels on the bed wearing only the necklace and heels. She watches as he fumbles to open his belt and pants as fast as he can, and tosses his clothes aside. 

House sits on the edge of the bed, naked, and swings his legs up. He edges over to the center of the bed. He's rock hard, and she lifts a knee to straddle his waist. "Please?" she asks.

He reaches up and grips her hips, pulls her roughly to him. Her hands are busy between her thighs, positioning his prick at her entrance. She lowers herself; forces him into her with a pleased sigh.

House runs his hands up and down her thighs as she rides him, watches her gorgeous body moving above him. Now his hand slides up her leg one last time; his thumb pushes between her lips to rub her clit. This starts a constant stream of moans from her.

Cameron leans forward and braces her weight on his shoulders. Her thrusts become more vigorous, harder. Her skin is flushing to match her lipstick; she is hot and damp, everywhere. Her fingernails dig into his skin, and he groans. She squeezes even harder, and he will have ten livid bruises. He reaches up and curls his fingers around her neck, just very gently holds her there, feels her pulse and studded leather under his hand. This move is so erotic to her. She moans more insistently, louder, and her hands clutch his wrist that holds her neck.

She is coming, long and hard. The contractions on his cock, her obvious gratification turn him on immensely; he loves making her come. He lets go, groans "Cameron" as he comes inside her. She collapses against him, wrapped around him like a blanket. They snuggle in this position until Cameron falls asleep.

House will steal away to his place: he can not sleep until he's seen the photos. Before leaving, he removes her shoes and tucks her under the blankets. He removes the collar and leaves it beside a note.

"Wear this to work tomorrow."


	4. Mischief

**Mischief**

Cameron paces through House's apartment, bored. House is watching tivo, while Cameron walks from shelf to shelf touching things. Lately she's allowed over more and more. Lately things have been more and more vanilla.

She's looking for mischief.

Unfortunately touching his personal possessions doesn't seem to be getting a rise out of him. He hasn't even looked over; the screen has his attention. "Could you bring me some chips and dip, and a coke?"

She smiles, retrieves his requests, and sets them on the coffee table.

He opens the bag and looks up at her. "Cameron, these chips are crushed."

"Are they?"

"They're…pulverized." His brow furrows.

She blinks innocently, but feels her face flush. "Sorry."

"It doesn't matter I guess," he says. He opens the dip and pours the crushed chips into it, then scoops the resulting mixture into his mouth. "Could you get me a glass of ice?"

"There's no ice."

"That's impossible. I filled the trays last night before bed."

"I dumped out the ice trays before work this morning. In the sink."

His jaw drops, and then a glimmer of amusement passes over his expression before he glares at her. He has caught on; she knows it; she's thrilled. He sighs heavily, then reaches for his can of coke. He pops the tab as he leans back into the couch. He stares at her, then takes a long swallow. "You dumped my ice. In the sink."

She successfully hides her smirk. "Well I—"

"You crushed my chips."

She opens her mouth to answer, but thinks better of it and lowers her chin in feigned contrition. She looks up through her eyelashes to gauge his reaction.

His tone is cold, harsh. "Do you think you can get away with that behavior?" She shakes her head silently, causing him to raise his voice. "Answer me!"

"No."

He gets up from the couch and walks toward her, around her; she doesn't move. From behind her he says, "You'll be punished." She nods mutely. He walks around further so he can watch her reaction. He speaks slowly, dragging it out. "You choose. Do you want the ping pong paddle, the belt, my hand, or" he pauses, "do you want to forgo coming tonight?"

Her eyes close and she shivers in erotic anticipation. _Oh my god, hot_. He gave her an out, which meant she had to _ask for it_. As if she wasn't already. "Belt please," she whispers.

"Wait here."

Coming from him, an order like 'wait here' is purely sexual. She stands and waits, saturating her panties. Her mind is flooded with images of how it might happen: where and how will he have her posed, how much will he undress her, where on her body, how many times. She is about to break down and touch herself when he calls her into the bedroom.

She sees he has arranged restraints, and a belt drapes across the corner of the bed. _Yes please_.

"Strip down to panties and kneel in the center of the bed."

A piece at a time, Cameron tosses her clothes into a tidy heap on the floor and climbs gracefully onto the bed. She kneels upright, facing the headboard, while House attaches the restraints. She tests them. She is free to move around a bit, but she definitely can't escape the bed.

House pulls her tiny striped cotton panties down to mid-thigh. She feels his hand run down her back, and over her ass; then nothing. She strains to listen, to determine what he's doing. Then it happens—loud, sudden, sharp, and hot—the belt slices the air and leaves a perfect red stripe on her skin. She doesn't scream, but drops a surprised "Ah!"

Her restraint is lax enough to let her reach back; she touches the hot skin where the belt contacted. Feeling how warm it is turns her on. He waits until her hands drop to her sides, then begins again.

She doesn't count the strokes as they fall. She's too busy feeling, too sexually excited. The room is loud with the sound of the belt and her reactions. Then very quickly it's over and she opens her eyes to perfect silence and House's blue eyes staring into hers. His hand cups her cheek and he wipes away a scattering of tears; she hadn't even noticed them. "Are you ready to behave?"

She sniffles, but smiles at him. "Yes."

"Good." He gathers her close in his arms and kisses her, tongue slipping into her mouth while his hands caress her warm, pink bottom. She can feel his hard-on through his jeans, and she wants him badly. Her small fingers caress him through his pants, but he catches her wrist. "No no."

House strips and lies down on his back behind her. He slides back, positioning his head between her thighs. His hands on her hips pull her down to his lips.

Cameron is already dripping wet; when his tongue hits her clit she goes insane. Now his hands grip her ass; his skin is cool relative to hers and it reminds her of what he's just done. She grinds against his face, feeling his lips and tongue massage her, his stubble sexily scrape her inner thigh. She can already feel her orgasm building. She angles herself; rubs herself against him. Within minutes she is screaming as she comes on his face.

She tries to straighten a bit, to rise up off his face, but he roughly holds her down. He keeps fucking her with his mouth, if anything licking her harder. It's so intense, too intense. She tries to wriggle away, but his hands and her bonds hold her in place. "You have to stop," she pants, but he won't. House sucks on her clit, flicks it with his tongue. "House, I can't…" It feels so good it almost hurts—unbearable pleasure—she's going to come again. She rocks against him until her orgasm makes her go stiff.

He gives her a moment to recover. He stands, lifts her knee and slips under. Now she is straddling him, resting on his hips. He lifts her up, positions the tip of his cock, and pulls her down onto him. Though she is drained, she rocks above him, fucking him hard as she can, pulling on her wrist restraints for balance.

She is working hard, athletically screwing him. Sweat beads on her skin and her hair clings to her damp pink face. She watches him watching her body, watching her do this to him. "I want to make you come for me," she says.

"Fuck, Cameron." He looks away, and she can tell he's already close: already trying to delay. She smiles wickedly and does everything in her power to get him off, squeezing his hard cock with her body, fucking him harder and faster. Making him come means so much to her, turns her on so completely that it triggers her climax.

Over her screams she can hear him groaning; she feels him coming inside her. She slows her movements, letting them both ride it out as long as possible. She pulls away so he can sit up and untie her.

He lies in bed with her against him, holding her wrist in both hands and rubbing the marks left by her bonds. "Too bad there's no ice."

She cuddles closer. "There's plenty of ice, you filled the trays last night."

He shakes his head and laughs softly. "Naughty girl."

FIN 


	5. Drive

**Drive**

House watches her walk around and around the apartment from behind his newspaper. He's unaware what page he's on; he doesn't even subscribe. This copy was swiped from the neighbor's doorstep this morning exactly for this purpose: so that he could appear busy and watch her undetected. So she would be bored.

He waits and watches, and when she sighs heavily he drops the paper noisily and freezes her with an icy stare. She holds her breath as she waits for his reaction, hoping he'll start a game; hoping the sigh is enough of a transgression.

"Would you like to go for a drive?" he asks.

Her laugh is an amused puff of air. Then her eyes narrow when she realizes he's serious. She looks skeptical. "Where?"

"We'll drive out of town and have a picnic."

"Really?" She is so surprised she forgets to contain her excitement.

"Of course really. Are you ready to go?"

She looks down at her sundress and sandals; fingers the collar at her neck. "I suppose I am."

"Ah, not yet. Go put it on."

Cameron blushes scarlet. She knows he's taking about her brand-new remote controlled butterfly vibe. She turns on her heel and disappears momentarily into the bedroom.

When she returns, he throws down the paper and grabs his cane and keys. "Off we go then."

As they approach the car, he pops the trunk with his key fob. "You'll be riding in here."

She looks at him silently, her eyes widening. She swallows, and nods.

She takes his hand and leans heavily on him to step into the trunk as gracefully as Cinderella stepping into her coach. She lies down on her side, with her hands behind her back. House binds her wrists and ankles with rope from the trunk as she watches. He pulls the butterfly vibrator's controller from his pocket and sets it to medium. He raises an eyebrow, and she gives him the faintest of nods; she's fine. "No screaming," he says, and closes the trunk.

House turns and hustles inside. The picnic cooler and bag of gear are packed and ready, he quickly returns to the car with them and heads for the highway. As he drives to their destination—maybe thirty minutes remote—he amuses himself by modifying the intensity of her toy. The last ten minutes he leaves it on high.

He pulls into a secluded, deserted park. He walks around to the rear of the car, and pops the trunk again. She is panting; shaking. Her hair clings in dark curls to her damp face. 

"Did you come?"

"Mmhmm." She writhes on her side, miming fucking.

"Are you close again?"

"_So_ close," she groans.

He slips his hand under her dress and presses the vibe harder to her clit with her palm, making her moan. She's not wearing panties, and he raises his eyebrows at her. He pushes two fingers into her, each thrust pressing his palm harder against her as she rocks against his hand as best she can, being tied hand and foot. She comes explosively, babbling his name and drenching his hand, violently tossing her head side to side.

He flicks the vibrator off and unties her ankles. He helps her struggle to her feet and step out, stumbling on shaky legs as she hits the ground, weak from her multiple orgasms.

He slings the gear bag over his shoulder and grabs the cooler. He leads her through the trees to a picnic table by the rope that dangles from her wrists. When they reach it, he unties her hands. He sits on the bench of the table to rifle through the bag. "Take off your dress."

"House," she hisses, "We're in public."

"Hardly," he scoffs. He knows for a fact no one will come by, but he has a blanket ready to cover her if the need arises. He looks up at her; pauses. "And are you not mine in public?"

She inhales a shaky gasp; she's aroused by his question. He smirks, and her hands cross and grip the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head. This leaves her in nothing but the vibrator, sandals, and her collar.

One at a time, he lifts her feet onto his knee and buckles leather cuffs on her ankles, which are followed by her wrists. "Lie down on your back"

She lies spread-eagled as he circles the table, looping rope through the rings on her cuffs. She is tied down tight. He sits at the table, and for a few moments he just enjoys touching her. Her eyes are on his face as his hand trails over her abdomen, cups her breast. He scoots down the bench a bit so he can bow his head and suck her nipple into his mouth. As his hand roams, he flicks the nipple with his tongue. As his fingers slide under the vibe to brush her clit, he bites her nipple; tugs at it. She groans. He turns her vibrator on low.

"You _are_ delicious, but I brought food. Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she sighs.

He opens the cooler, revealing baguette, turkey, cheese, grapes, and iced tea. He starts by tearing apart some bread and making himself a turkey and cheese sandwich. He takes one large bite, then sets it aside. He plucks a grape, and lets it hover above her mouth.

Cameron licks her lips, and parts them, and he sets the grape on her tongue. Morsel by morsel he feeds her by hand, every so often pausing to take a bite himself. He slips a flexible straw into a bottle, and cradles her head in his hand so she can sip the tea.

He watches her carefully, and when she's had enough he clears the food away. He catches her watching him, and knows she's wondering what will happen next. He reaches into his pocket, and turns the intensity of her toy to high.

She arches off the table, hit by vibrations almost too intense to enjoy. His fingertips circle her entrance. "House, _please_," she begs.

"Please what?"

She looks at him, glassy eyed. "Please I need you inside me; please let me come."

He toys with her, slipping one finger just half an inch in. "It doesn't sound like you mean it."

"Please fuck me!" Her yell echoes across the empty landscape. He plunges two, then three fingers into her, hard and fast. In only a few strokes he can feel her contracting, climaxing around his fingers. 

He slides his hand out of her, leaving the vibe on high. She squirms. He steps to her face and pushes his fingers into her mouth one at a time for her to suck clean. Her hips buck and gyrate, and when he pulls the last finger from her mouth she moans, "Please it's too much."

He ignores this. He unbuckles the cuffs that bind her feet, and she tries to use that new freedom to either come or evade the vibrations; she can do neither. Meanwhile he has moved to the other end of the table, and he pulls her by the d-ring of her collar so her head hangs off the end of the table.

Cameron looks up at House, upside down, and watches him opening his fly. When he frees his raging hard-on and steps toward her, she realizes his intention. She shimmies further off the table edge and strains to meet his cock with her lips.

House's fingers tangle in her silky hair as he cradles her head. He pushes shallowly into her mouth; lets her get used to it. He feels her tongue circle the head, and he knows she is ready. He begins to fuck her mouth.

Cameron's hands are still tied; she can do nothing about the out-of-control vibrations assaulting her clit, so intense it feels like one long orgasm. She goes slack, letting the waves of sensation crash on her, letting him slide his cock deep into her open mouth.

His hips buck as he comes, forcing him deliciously deep into her. She sucks his cock clean, then lets her head droop as he turns off the butterfly. He zips his pants and unbuckles her wrist cuffs.

House grabs her discarded dress, then helps her to sit up. He sits behind her with his legs wrapped on either side of hers, so she can lean against his chest. As she recovers from the scene he strokes her hair, her skin; holds her. When she's ready, she lifts her arms over her head so he can dress her.

He kisses her neck from behind, and whispers in her ear, "How do you feel?"

"Mmm," she sighs. "Amazing."

"Are you ready to go home?"

"Mmhmm."

"Wait here." He leaves her to sit a moment while he tosses their things in the bag, then loads the car. He comes back for her, and guides her back to the front passenger seat by the hand. 


	6. All Dressed

**Author's Note:** Special thank you to guest author Dragynflies for penning this delicious chapter.

**All Dressed**

It's been a week. A week of too much work and not nearly enough time together at all, much less time for anything remotely kinky.

Friday night, and everything is wrapped up. She is curled up on the couch, watching House watch…cartoons. She sighs and shifts her legs, stretching them out, then casts a purposeful glance in his direction.

He picks up his Nintendo DS and turns it on.

She sighs heavily, and waits for him to look at her.

He doesn't.

"I'm going to go take a shower, then," she says, her voice hinting.

"Kay," he mumbles, pausing his game long enough to grab a chip from the bag next to him, "Have fun."

She shoves herself off the couch and barely resists the urge to stomp to the bathroom. The hem of the dress shirt she stole from him barely grazes her ass, and she hooks her own finger in the D ring on her collar, turning around to face him one last time.

He doesn't even lift his head, not even a little.

She enters the bathroom and slams the door – maybe just a little harder than necessary. She drops the shirt first, then turns on the water.

While it heats, she stands naked in from of the mirror, watching herself as she unbuckles the collar and sets it down on the counter. She likes it more than she even likes to admit to herself, and she feels…better when it's on.

She doesn't wear it to work anymore, not since the first day.

_"Nice…necklace." Chase's voice is…almost smug as she comes into the Diagnostics lab, only a little late. She doesn't respond to him, just heads over to the coffee pot and starts a fresh batch.  
She's wearing black dress pants and a little black vest over her white shirt. She'd strugged that morning, trying to find clothes to wear that would both match the collar but not over emphasize the leather around her neck._

She's a little self concious, can feel Chase's gaze burning a hole in her back as she pours water, but she's also proud, and she's not going to let Chase's stupid comments ruin it.

Foreman comes in a little later, flipping through their patient's file.

"Morning, Cameron," he greets her; he'd been the first one to work that morning. He doesn't look up from his file right away, but when he does he frowns at her. Nothing is spoken aloud, but his face says plenty.

They mill about for a half hour, checking on their patient and tossing around ideas before House finally comes in. He nods at Chase and Foreman and then body checks Cameron so obviously she blushes under his eyes.

"There's mail that needs to be sorted," he says to her pointedly, and really before she even has time to think about it she's up and on her way to his office. He joins her a few minutes later, sitting down in his chair and watching her.

She flips through the mail, peeking at him over the rim of her glasses before she finally speaks, "Chase and Foreman…"

"I've heard those names before…" he begins, tapping his chin, "Do we know them?"

"They're giving me weird looks."

"They can't help their faces, Cameron. You know I can't discriminate based on looks."

"Because of _**this,**__" she snaps, with more force than she intended. Her meaning is clear._

House shrugs, glaces to his computer, "So take it off."

Cameron balks, "What?"

"If it bothers you, take it off." His voice is…easy going, almost, but she catches the challenge.

"No," she says firmly, then drops the pile of mail he needs to read on his desk and the rest in his mailbox.

It's the last time it's mentioned that day, and the collar does not come off until the next morning. 

The whole dynamic of their relationship has changed since then, Cameron muses as she steps into the shower. Everything is different; everything is better, and for all her pouting earlier, she just likes being with him. Even if he is absorbed in Spongebob Squarepants and Nintendo.

She takes her time in the shower, letting the hot water run until it starts to chill before she steps out.

She dries herself, and then towel dries her hair before putting the collar back on. Just because he wasn't in the mood tonight didn't mean she didn't want to have it on. She's just about to slip into one of his t shirts for pajamas when the bathroom door clicks open.

"Oh good," he says, grabbing her hand and dragging her to him, "You're all dressed."

He catches her off guard and before she even processes what's happening, he's snapped a leash to her collar. She looks at him with wide eyes, and a second later a tug on the leash drops her to her knees.

"Come," he tells her, and starts walking toward the bedroom, the leash clutched in his free hand. She scrambles after him on her hands and knees, already feeling arousal pool in her belly.

When they reach the bedroom, she sees that he had pulled the covers back and laid an old sheet over the bed. He tugs once on the leash, and she kneels up, waiting to see what he does.

"Up," he orders, "on your hands and knees, facing the headboard."

She listens, even crawls onto the bed. His palm on her neck forces her head down, so her cheeks are resting on her forearms and her ass is in the air.

"You were being snotty tonight," he says, and she feels the bed sink down next to her as he sits down. He palms her ass, and she braces for a slap, "You were teasing."

"I wasn't," she argues, wiggling under his touch.

"Now you're just lying," he tells her, and abruptly, his hand is gone. He stands up and pulls open the drawer where he keeps their toys. He wraps leather cuffs around her wrists and ties them together before attaching the rope to the headboard.

"Just think about your behavior for a minute," he says, unsnapping the leash from her collar and leaving the room.

She is still for a minute, then tugs at her wrists. What the hell did he have up his sleeve now? This wasn't exactly what'd she'd anticipated -- actually, her plans for this evening had been quite vanilla after her failed attempts earlier.

She can hear him banging around in the kitchen, opening cupboards and slamming the refrigerator door.

How long did he plan to leave her here? She sighed and settled her head down on the pillow he'd left, closing her eyes.

She's not sure how long she stays there for, or if she dozes while she waits for him but she is startled to alertness when she feels something cold circling her nipple.

Her eyes shoot open and she glances down to see him circling her left nipple with the tip of a red popsicle. She moans and replaces her head on the pillow as he continues to tease her, switching nipples twice before he settles back on the bed, sliding the popsicle between his lips.

"There you are," he says, stroking his hand over her still-damp hair, "Have a nice nap?"

She gives him a little nod, and he returns it with a little half smile.

"Time to wake up now," he tells her, rubbing a hand over her back, "but let's close those pretty eyes."

She lets her eyes flutter closed, and strains to hear him as he moves about in the room. She doesn't catch much -- she can hear him slurp at the popsicle, and his cane tapping on the floor, but she can't discern where he is or what's he doing.

She feels him settle at the end of the bed, and then nothing. Seconds tick by as she counts in her head and she nearly leaps off the bed when she feels his fingers teasing at her exposed center.

"Keep your eyes closed," he warns her, shifting his position.

"Mmhmm," she whimpers, relaxing on the bed. She maintains her position, but she's no longer braced for a slap across her ass.

He lets his fingers brush over her for a minute, teasing her open and sliding his fingers over the soft skin. He circles her clit once, twice, then drops his hand from her.  
She waits for his hand to come back, or better yet, his mouth.

"House," she whimpers, pushing towards him, "Please."

She hears him slurp once more on the popsicle, and then his freezing tongue presses against her. She shrieks, and unintentionally jerks away from him.

"Uh uh uh," he warns her, and she feels a hand at her hip guiding her back to how he wants her. "Hold still."

She does, trembling now on her knees in front of him. Now she's not quite sure what to expect, and this sends a new flood of arousal. She's so wet she can feel it dripping down her leg.

Unexpectedly, she feels the very tip of the popsicle push into her, and she screams his name. Her hands fist in the sheets and she holds herself still for him.

The popsicle doesn't stay for very long, and it is soon followed with his warm tongue, lapping up the melted juice. She moans and struggles not to relax again, now she's prepared for him.

She doesn't have long to wait before she feels the popsicle again. He circles her entrance with his finger first, then slips the popsicle in a few inches. It takes her a couple of seconds to adjust to the different feeling, and then he slides it out before he starts fucking her with it, shallowly and never for too long. He takes frequent breaks, licking her clean in-between.

Under him, she is panting, fists clenching at the sheet and her lower lip pulled between her teeth. It is not enough – his actions have her at the edge of orgasm, but never enough to send her over.

He pushes the popsicle into her and brings his other hand to toy with her clit, circling it with the tip of his index finger.

"House, House…gonna…I'm gonna come," she pants out.

His hand is gone and before she can whine she hears his voice, "No, you're not."

He licks her clean, making sure to get all the cherry juice, and then settles back at the headboard.

"You can open your eyes," he tells her, and she opens black eyes just in time to see him slide what's left of the popsicle between his lips.

He pays no more attention to her than he would a cat while he finishes the treat, stroking his hand through her hair and cupping her cheek gently. Her near orgasm has her heart racing and her hips keep jerking.

He finishes the popsicle _finally_ and raises an eyebrow at her.

"Please?" she whimpers, and she looks so hopeful that he can't deny her.

He moves back to her raised ass, half kneeling on the bed and bracing himself on his good leg.

"Spread your knees," he encourages, and she does, arching her back to make it easier for him to slide inside of her. 

He inhales as he does; her pussy is cold from the popsicle and wonderfully tight around him. He grips her hips and fucks her hard; she is so close that she comes the second his hand slips around to pinch her clit.

He comes a minute later, fingers digging into her hips as he pushes as deep as he can inside of her as she cries his name.

He slips out of her easily, and she whimpers at the loss. Lying down next to her, he unbuckles the cuffs from her wrists and shoves them to the side. He'll clean them up later, he reasons, and focuses his attention on Cameron as she sleepily paws at the sheet under her.

"Roll over," he encourages, and he pulls the sheet, stained with cherry popsicle, from underneath her. She sighs and settles comfortably into bed as he tucks her in.

"Thank you," she murmurs as her eyes flutter closed. He's not sure what to say to that, so he just kisses her forehead and lies down next to her.


	7. Be a Good Girl

**Author's Note:** Special thank you to guest author Dragynflies for co-authoring this chapter.

**Be A Good Girl**

Cameron lies naked on the cold, hard floor. He allowed her blankets, but it's sexier to go full out. She imagines eventually she'll get cold and pull a sheet over herself.

Maybe.

She lies on her back, one finger curled through the D ring of her collar and her other hand inching down her stomach. Her fingers push into her slippery pussy. She closes her eyes and remembers her instructions. 

_Cameron kneels next to House as he sits on the sofa. "I'll be gone until Sunday. Be a good girl and wear your collar." He pauses, and runs his hand through her hair. Then, catching his index finger in the ring of her collar, he pulls her head up and says, "Only your collar. All weekend."_

Her eyes widen, and she nods silently, waiting for further instruction.

"When I'm here, you sleep in the bed for my pleasure, but when I'm gone you may as well sleep on the floor. At the foot of the bed—as many blankets as you need."

She nods again, with the glimmer of a hidden smile.

"And you're not to come unless you have my express permission. Touch yourself all you want."

Her eyes shut, and she exhales shakily.

"No phone calls, unless it's me on the caller id. Do you understand?"

She's almost too aroused to answer, but when he tugs on her collar she whimpers, "Yes." 

She has followed these instructions to the letter, with one exception. It's impossible to touch herself _'all she likes'_ without coming. So she fucks herself as hard as she dares, keeps herself tantalizingly close, and begs the phone to ring. She grinds against her palm as she shoves three fingers deep inside; actually yells, "Please. Please you have to call NOW."

The phone rings.

Cameron scrambles on her knees to the cordless on the bedside table. After checking the caller id, she presses talk and holds it to her ear.

"Are you behaving yourself?"

"Yes," she pants. Her desperation is obvious in her voice.

"Good girl." His voice is so calm that for a second she thinks he's not even going to ask, not going to give her permission for anything.

Seconds tick by before she caves. "Please?" she begs, her hand still moving between her legs, her thumb pressing against her aching clit.

"Please," he repeats, and now she can hear the smirk in his voice.

"_House,_" she pleads, gasping out the word between moans.

"If you must," he says, and she pauses.

That was permission, really.

She whimpers his name again; she wants _real_ permission, wants to feel like she's listening to what he wants, "I want to be good," she stammers, and her hand falls motionless, fingers still inside of her.

He laughs. "Very good. You can come, Cameron." She hears a click; he's hung up on her.

Cameron drops the phone and crawls back to her place at the foot of the bed. She moves furiously now, writhing on her side, rubbing herself against her hand, forcing her fingers in as deep as she can, again and again. Her long-delayed orgasm builds instantly, and she feels her body clutch tightly around her fingers as she babbles his name to the hardwood floor, over and over.

Hours later, she wakes up cold and stiff; she must have passed out. She stretches, arching her back before standing up. Her legs feel shaky and she stumbles to the bathroom. She starts the shower and steps in, the hot water soothing her muscles.

It is Saturday morning, and she has no plans for the entire day. She can stay here until the hot water runs out, if it ever does. Her hands slide over her soapy body, and she hears his words repeat in her mind. _"You're not to come unless you have my express permission. Touch yourself all you want."_

She wishes he was here to touch her; he would be rougher than she can be. She palms her breasts and squeezes them hard as she can, then pinches and twists her nipples. She moans his name as she does this; it's all for him.

Her hand slips down, and the pads of her fingers rub circles around her clit. She moans; it's too dangerous—too good—she's too close. Instead she rubs harder, too rough so she can't get off. She torments herself for him.

Even though she's not trying to get off, she starts to feel it coming: that feeling that makes you burst out, "I'm gonna come," just before the crucial moment. She immediately pulls her hands away and raises them in the air. She waits for the feeling to subside, then rinses off.

Dressed in her collar alone, she mills about the apartment, looking for an activity. Being naked like this, walking around in the daylight, feels lewd, dirty. This attire is only suitable for fucking.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she steals a glance at the silent phone; cups herself and brushes her finger over her wet clit. She has an idea: it's quite difficult to come standing up.

She touches herself expertly; if she was lying down she'd be screaming inside of two minutes. As it is, she's still at it twenty minutes later when she starts to feel incredibly dizzy. Her knees buckle, and she collapses gently to the floor.

She wakes up in the dark to the ringing telephone. After crawling stiffly to it, she pushes talk and immediately crawls back to the foot of the bed.

"Sleeping were you?"

She mumbles sleepily, "Mmm, how did you know?"

"It went to voicemail the first time."

Her eyes close in pleasure. He wanted to talk to her so bad he called until she woke her.

"Did you have a good day?" he asks.

The sound of his voice, combined with the multiple missed orgasms from the day, has her trembling already, "Mmhmm," she answers, half sleepy and half aroused, "I miss you. How's the conference going?"

"It would be better if I'd brought you with," he tells her, "Could have kept you in my hotel room instead of my apartment."

She manages a little breathy moan, and he takes his cue to continue, "Would be nice to come back to you after a day of mind-numbing talks, all curled up on the floor here."

She's lying at the foot of his bed, but now all she can picture is the same position in a hotel room, waiting for him, and the image is hotter than she'd anticipated.

"You should have," Cameron sasses, her voice dropping an octave, "I could have waited for you while you worked…I'm not wearing anything, you know."

"You'd better not be," he warns her.

"I'm not. And I wouldn't be if I were there, either." Now she's on a roll, and she's curious to see how far she can take this before he shuts her down. "I'd wait for you, and when you came into the room I'd be kneeling by the door. I'd miss you even if I were there, so I'd already be wet for you. But first you'd go over to the bed and I'd unzip your pants…I bet you didn't dress up, not even for your talk today, so you'd be wearing your jeans."

He gulps and he's sure she heard. She's being awfully forward; he thought he'd taken care of that behavior already.

"So I'd tug down your jeans, and your boxers," she continues, "and I'd –"

"Someone doesn't want to come anymore tonight, apparently," he interrupts, his voice hard.

She stops immediately, and the line goes silent. He can hear her breathing though; she wouldn't hang up on him.

"Well?" he asks, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, and he can almost see her curled up on the floor.

"Better. Now lets revisit your little…dialogue, so you'll know what to do tomorrow night."

Now she's the one swallowing, her mouth dry as he continues.

"I want you waiting by the door when I get home. I'll be home after six, so you'll have plenty of time to be ready. When I open the door, I'm going to drag you, crawling, to the foot of the bed where you belong, pull down my pants, and fuck your mouth." He can hear her panting on the other end; he knows she's touching herself. "Cameron, did you behave today?"

"Yes," she moans. 

He waits, testing to see if she'll beg or if she's learned her lesson. He hears nothing but her labored breathing. "Cameron, I want you to come now, one hand in your cunt and one hand in your mouth, imagining I'm fucking you. On your knees at the end of the bed."

"The phone…"

"Set it on the bed."

He hears it drop; hears her muffled groan as she follows his instructions

Her scream is stifled by her fingers in her mouth, his name sounds more like a shout than any real word. He gives her a minute to recover, then hears her pick the phone back up.

"Good girl," he says, his hand already moving on his cock, "I'll see you tomorrow." 


	8. This

**Author's Note:** This chapter involves anal sex. If that doesn't appeal to you, I'd skip it.****

This

House lays in bed with Cameron curled against him in a skimpy silk nightie. As he reads his journal, his hand roams idly over her skin, stroking her like a cat. His fingers slide over every part of her, occasionally garnering a pleased moan. As he nears the end of the article, his touch is becoming more sexual, and her moans more frequent. Now she has abandoned all pretenses, and her legs are lewdly splayed. He caresses her inner thighs, then higher. His fingertips brush over her damp clit; she gasps.

Without looking up, he slides his middle finger into her pussy. "Are you thinking about _this_?"

He slides his finger in and out, and she moans, "_Yes_…"

"Do you ever think about _this_?" He pulls the slippery digit from her, and slides it lower to circle her asshole, pressing down gently. 

"_Yes!_"

House flings the journal hard across the room, where it hits the wall and falls to the floor. Suddenly he is turning, rolling her onto her back and bracing his weight on his free arm as he slides just the tip of his finger inside. He watches her carefully. "You like it don't you."

"Yes."

"You want more, don't you."

It's not a question, but she again moans, "Yes!" as he pushes his wet finger in deeper. He pushes in fairly deep and holds still, letting her get used to it. He waits, staring at her face, until she opens her eyes. She looks at him a moment before tentatively saying, "More?"

He slides his finger out a bit, then jams it in fairly hard. He rotates it in a circle, stretching her. When she starts to rock her hips up, urging him deeper, he withdraws his hand. She's clearly into it; she looks completely disappointed that he's stopped. He stands up.

"But…"

He silences her with a glare over his shoulder. She looks instantly coy and contrite—she knows now that he's started a game. "Lose the slip," he orders. He leaves her to obey and heads to the washroom to wash his hands and grab the KY.

Upon his return, he finds her waiting expectantly, sitting on her heels in the center of the bed. He tosses the bottle to her, "Hold this." Her eyes widen and follow him as he strips, and lies down beside her. He's already hard, and she can't take her eyes off his erection. She swallows hard. "I'll take that KY now please." She is excited to see what he'll do with it, and feels vaguely disappointed when he drops it onto the bed beside him. "C'mere."

He tugs her by her wrist, and she lifts a knee to straddle him. His hands on her hips arrange her to his specifications, then his fingers wrap around his erection as he guides it to her entrance. She pauses. "I thought…"

He raises his eyebrows. "_I thought_ you were _mine_."

She trembles a bit. It thrills her when he's possessive. She bends her knees further, forcing him into her. "I am."

"Good girl." House's hands on her hips guide her to rock forward and back, fucking him. "Rub your clit for me."

She licks her fingers and obediently applies them to her clit. It's delicious fucking, but utterly vanilla. She tells herself to just close her eyes and enjoy it. She is thrusting herself onto his cock as hard as she can when she feels pressure. She groans as he slides his well lubricated thumb into her ass.

He can tell she's enjoying it from the way she clenches her muscles. He can feel her simultaneously squeeze his hard-on and thumb. After giving her a moment to adjust, he replaces his thumb with two fingers.

"_Oh_god," she cries. She fucks him faster, forcing herself back harder onto his hand again and again. Soon he's moved up to three fingers, spreading and twisting them as she slides up and down on his cock. "More," she pleads.

"More?"

"Oh _yeah_," she groans, rubbing her clit as fast as she can, "I wish you could…everywhere…"

He daren't give her more fingers—already his fingers fuck her as wide as his erection would, if not as deep. He gives her more by pushing his long fingers in as deep and hard as he can. He can feel himself screwing her; it's intensely erotic. "Cameron, I don't think I can wait…"

This announcement pushes her over the edge: she's pleased him and that's all she wants in the world. She comes explosively: screaming, clutching his shoulders. She continues to rock above him, insensible, until he pulls his hand from her, pulls her down hard by her hips, and comes inside her.

He rolls her carefully onto her back. "You ok?"

"Mmm," she moans, "Better than ok."

"Wait just a second ok?"

"Mmhmm." Cameron curls up on her side and closes her eyes. Before she even notices time has passed, House is back, dressed in pajama pants and carrying a warm washcloth. He tidies her up, tucks her under the sheets and kisses her forehead. Minutes later he is slipping into bed with her.

He pulls her close, enjoys the way she carefully wraps her limbs around him. He never would have thought he'd like clinging, but he does. He loves the contented post-coital sighs she makes, the way she nestles against his chest. He loves the way she so clearly belongs to him.

FIN 


	9. Withholding

**Author's Note: **Thank you to PsycheCuore for guest authoring this delicous chapter.

**Withholding**

He woke to find her kneeling on the bed beside him hopeful expression on her face. He smiled slightly and drew her in for a kiss, allowing her to take it deeper. When they separated he was pleased to see she didn't press for more. The hopeful expression remained, though.

For the past five days he'd been withholding her orgasms, hoping to teach her some self control. She'd been misbehaving, twisting his instructions to suit herself too often. 

He got a thrill out of the way her eyes lit up as he rolled her onto her back and settled atop her. He pressed his hips into her and her thighs parted to cradle his body. Their lips met again and a loud moan escaped her. He broke way to run kisses down her neck, hands smoothing over her thighs. Her hips bucked against him and he took pity on her, entering her smoothly.

He saw the question in her eyes and shook his head. She couldn't hide her disappointment, but clenched around him and arched her back to change the angle and increase his pleasure.

She thought back to the morning after he'd imposed his orgasmic ban. She'd found him in the kitchen. When she approached she was immediately encouraged onto the counter, and he'd taken only a second to turn off the hotplate before thrusting into her. She'd responded eagerly, thinking he'd changed his mind about the no orgasm rule. But he'd made no move to touch her, and simply sped up his thrusts until he came inside her. He'd smirked at her as he withdrew, "Did you think just because you're not allowed to come I wouldn't be making the most of that gorgeous body?"

The pattern had repeated itself over the last few days and she'd come to expect it. It didn't stop her from hoping each time would be different.

She fingered the collar at her neck and smiled. It wasn't like he was denying her completely. She couldn't imagine how she would cope with not being able to make love to him. And as long as he was happy, so was she.

With that in mind she clenched around him again, drawing her knees back toward her chest, doing everything she could to make it good for him. His breathing quickly became more laboured. She mumbled words of encouragement as he increased his speed, pushing her deeper into the mattress. Her hands clenched against his back in a vain attempt to keep herself from climax and keep him from leaving her. It proved futile as one minute later he withdrew from her. She watched him stroke himself a few times before he came, spilling over her thighs.

Cameron bit back a moan, her arousal spiking. House shuffled to the edge of the bed and started to dress. When he was finished he turned to her, still splayed out across his bed, their combined fluids coating her inner thighs.

"Clean yourself up and let's go. We don't want to be late for work." 

The pitiful looks continued that day at work. He'd catch sight of her from his office and, as if she sensed she was being watched, she would always turn and meet his eyes. The longing he saw in hers didn't make him nearly as uncomfortable as it once had. 

When they returned home that evening Cameron went straight to the bedroom to collect her collar. She carried it back into the living room and dropped to her knees in front of him where he sat on the couch.

She held the collar out to him. "Please?"

He shook his head. "We'll be going out soon."

"But I want to wear it," she pleaded.

He rolled his eyes, hating that one look could make him give in to her. He took the collar from her and shifted to the edge of the seat. One hand swept her hair to the side while the other brought the collar up to her throat. With infinite care he drew the ends together.

"Only for on hour or so," he told her.

She nuzzled her head into his palm, smiling softly.

With the familiar leather against her skin she relaxed against him. He pulled her up on to the couch with him, turning back to the TV. After awhile he got up and went into the kitchen, returning with two bowls of noodles. They ate in silence, pressed together.

Cameron lost track of time, happy to simply be with him. She was beginning to get drowsy when House shifted beside her.

"Get dressed, we're going out."

"I'm fine staying as I am."

"Then go wait by the door. I'll be out in a minute," he said.

Cameron scurried to the door and dropped to her knees. She glanced down the hallway, estimating how much time she'd have before he returned. Her hand began to inch down her belly. All she wanted was one little rub on her clit to ease the throbbing that had haunted her all day long.

She'd managed to get her hand halfway under her waistband when she heard his footsteps.

"What do you think you're doing?"

It was more of a demand than a question. She stared at him with wide eyes.

He wound his hand tightly in her hair, clutching a fistful and using it to guide her head backward. "Are you going to behave yourself?"

She nodded and he gave a sharp tug on her hair.

"Yes," she answered. 

He drew her to her feet, and she followed him out to the car. 

They pulled in to a parking lot fifteen minutes later and House killed the engine. He stopped her before she could open the door.

"Time for this to come off," he told her as he reached around to unbuckle the collar.

She looked at him questioningly, eyes locked on the collar in his hands.

"We're really going grocery shopping?" she asked, incredulously.

"Unless you want to survive on peanut butter and bread for the next week."

He opened his door and she followed suit, waiting as he locked the car. They made their way to the entrance and he took her hand in his, linking their fingers. She smiled at the gesture and allowed her disappointment to fade.

Inside the store, she reached to take control of the trolley but he caught her wrist in a firm grip. He used his hold to pull her to the end of the cart and wrapped her fingers around the left corner.

"I'm doing the driving."

She nodded, acknowledging that she would not move unless told. He guided the trolley up and down the aisles. He stopped and reached for a packet of clothespins, causing Cameron to regard him curiously.

"You have a dryer, what do you need clothespins for?"

He leered and pressed himself against her back. "When you're being naughty I can use them to punish you. Maybe you won't be so insolent with a couple of these squeezing your nipples."

She felt herself react instantly, and knew he could see her hardened nipples through the fabric of her shirt. He continued that way through the rest of the store, adding the necessary groceries but then stopping at something completely mundane and describing how he would use it to tease her.

A wooden spoon – "I can just imagine the little squeals you'd make if I spanked you with this."

A loofa glove – "Can you picture me touching you all over your body with this? The warmth and the heightened sensitivity it would cause?"

She felt like everyone else in the store knew exactly what was going on. She knew it was unlikely, that it was just her imagination, but even the thought turned her on.

She turned to see House pick up a box of latex gloves. Her heartbeat accelerated. He advanced on her, waving the gloves in her face.

"Maybe you have a doctor fantasy?"

She nodded eagerly. "There is one particular doctor I fantasize about constantly."

He smirked and tossed the gloves back on the shelf. "I've got better props at home, anyway."

She smiled and followed him to the next aisle. There he picked up a length of electrical cord. She thought nothing of it, figuring he needed to replace his extension lead. He surprised her by unraveling a section of the cord and wrapping it around her wrist in full view of other shoppers. Heat rose to her cheeks as she watched him bind her hand securely.

He gave a tug on the loose end, pulling her against him. He bent forward and whispered in her ear, "Makes an excellent restraint. It's sturdy, but won't abrade your skin. How does it feel?"

_Dangerously erotic_. "Perfect."

He kissed her quickly before unwrapping the cord from her wrist. Her cheeks were stained red but she didn't object to his actions and for that he was pleased. He glanced into the trolley and did a quick list check in his head.

"That looks about everything. Are you ready to go home?"

She nodded and he turned the trolley around and headed for the checkouts, but not before dropping the cord in with the rest of the items. Cameron followed silently, her mind spinning with thoughts of what was in store for her when they arrived back at his apartment.

Back in the car, he reached over to unbutton her pants, slipping his hand under the waistband of her panties to check her arousal. He found her soaked and rewarded her with a few shallow thrusts of his finger. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. Her face brightened as she saw her collar.

"You'll be needing this later tonight," he told her. 

The instant they walked in the door House collapsed onto the couch. Cameron took the bags into the kitchen without a word. She quickly put the groceries away and brought the other items back into the living room. She dropped the bag in front of him and went to sit next to him. He stopped her before she had a chance to sit.

"Clothes off," he said casually, grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV. 

She obeyed, tossing each item of clothing on the empty cushion beside him. She stood in front of him, waiting. When he bent forward she tensed expectantly, thinking he was reaching for the bag of toys. Instead, he plucked her panties from the file next to him and fingered the material.

"I want you to go into the bedroom and get yourself ready for me. When you're close to coming I want you to come back out here and let me know."

She stalled for a moment, wondering if there was more, thinking he'd put their improvised toys to good use. His focus was back on the TV, however, so she followed his instructions and headed into the bedroom.

He did his best to focus on what was playing on screen instead of the muffled moans emanating from the other room. Close to twenty minutes later he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He shut off the TV and motioned for her to stand in front of him. He took in her flushed cheeks and the fine sheen of sweat covering her body and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I'm close to orgasm," she told him.

"Did you get yourself nice and hot for me?"

Her legs trembled as she nodded.

"Show me. I want your fingers in your cunt, now."

She licked her lips and sighed, struggling to keep herself under control. His power over her was overwhelming. She pushed two fingers inside herself, twisting and curling to draw out the sensation. Her breathing was harsh and she did nothing to silence her cries, wanting him to see and hear how ready she was. She pulled her hand away and held her fingers out to him.

"Good girl, you are ready."

She beamed at his approval, eyeing the bag at his feet. He stood and retrieved something from a draw on the other side of the room.

He held it out to her. "I bought you a present."

She opened the bag and removed a flesh-toned dildo. Her head snapped up to look at him.

"I thought you could use a proper toy to play with. Why don't you go back to the bedroom and give it a test drive."

This time he followed her, standing at the foot of the bed. He stood and watched as she scooted backward on the bed, settling herself on her back. She caught his eye and spread her thighs. She slid the toy slowly inside herself, her eyes fixed on his. Her breath hitched and she tilted her hips to take the toy deeper.

He continued to watch her work the toy in and out of her body, bucking wildly.

"You have permission to come now, Cameron."

She worked herself into a frenzy, pumping furiously. The tendons in her thighs strained as she forced her legs wider. She tilted her pelvis, pressed as hard as she dared on her clit, but nothing worked. Tears formed in her eyes.

"I can't come," she cried.

"Keep going," he ordered, watching her carefully.

She brought one hand up to pinch and twist her nipple, keeping a steady rhythm with the dildo in the other. It sent a jolt of fire to her core but didn't bring her any closer to climax.

Her hand moved from her breast to her collar. She pulled on the D ring, a move that never failed to tip her over the edge. A silent scream of frustration escaped her. All her attention was focused between her thighs, on the new toy fucking her so well.

It felt amazing, but after five long days all she wanted was House inside her, knowing he wouldn't leave her unsatisfied again.

"I need you," she begged.

He watched her struggle for a minute more before stepping forward and halting her movements. He tossed the toy to the floor and brought his cock to her entrance. She whimpered as the head pushed into her, taking her slowly. He gave a few experimental thrusts before settling on a strong rhythm. After only four thrusts she was grasping at him, screaming his name as her long awaited orgasm crashed over her.

He held still, the force of her climax making it difficult to do anything else. She was incoherent, tossing her head from side to side. He watched her in awe. She was so responsive, forcefully clenching around his length to make sure he didn't withdraw. When he shifted back she grunted in protest.

"I've got you," he whispered, and pushed into her again.

This time he moved slowly, drawing out every stroke. He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her, putting everything into the simple act. She ran her fingers through his hair as their tongues wrestled for dominance. His hands smoothed up her sides, stroking over her breasts and back down her stomach. Little tingles trailed after his hands, making her gasp. His thumb moved to her clit and circled, applying enough pressure to force her over the edge once more. He stifled her moans with his mouth, kissing her as she rode out the feeling. The sight and feel of her was too much, and he came hard.

She peppered tiny kisses all over his face while he recovered. He withdrew and rolled to the side, pulling her against him.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

She smiled. "Yes," and he got the impression she wanted to say more.

He decided not to push it for tonight, and wrapped his arm tighter around her, settling under the blankets. 

"Good." 


	10. Be Right Back

**Be Right Back**

Cameron is shaky and flushed as she walks past House into his apartment. 

She has had the butterfly on under her clothes at work all day long—a day of slow torment compounded by his proximity on the car ride over. She could barely sit still in the passenger seat, and walking inside was a struggle.

As she passes under the arm he uses to hold the door, he whispers, "Bedroom," then follows her there. He settles onto a chair where he has a good view of the bed. "Strip."

She shivers at the word, then does as she's told. A pile grows at his feet: heels, vest, blouse, skirt, bra, stockings, and panties. She reaches for the straps of the vibe, but he stops her. "Lie on your back."

She turns and walks to the bed, almost hesitant because her steps are taking her further from him. She lies down, spread-eagled, and waits. After a moment House stands and slowly walks around the bed, buckling leather restraints around her wrists and ankles. She watches his every move in silent anticipation as he smirks and turns the butterfly vibe on low, pressing it closer against her with two fingers.

"I'm gonna make a sandwich, do you want a sandwich?"

"What? No!"

"Okay, wait here."

Cameron watches in nearly stunned silence as he leaves the room. The barely buzzing vibrator between her legs distracts her a little, but she can hear him moving around in the kitchen. _He really is making a sandwich…_

House comes back into the room, carrying a sandwich on a plate in one hand while the fingers of his other hand curl around his cane. He makes eye contact with her as he settles back down in the chair, taking a bite of his dinner and pulling the remote control for the butterfly vibe out of his pocket.

"Did you read that last article in JAMA?" he asks conversationally, setting his sandwich on the plate and twirling the remote in his fingers, "72 of those participants showed recovery within two weeks."

Cameron glares at him, twisting her wrist in the cuff. She's not going to get loose, but she can't help but want to try to get her hand free and between her legs. The ache between her legs is growing, but the teasing of the vibrator is not nearly enough to push her over the edge.

"I didn't think their sample size was sufficient, really," House continues, ignoring her squirming and pleading looks, "And their control group didn't even receive placebos. JAMA's publishing shit lately. How's your article coming?"

"Like you even want to…read it," Cameron pants, trying now unsuccessfully to press her thighs together.

"Eventually," he counters, and presses a button on the remote. Between her legs, the vibrator speeds up and Cameron groans her desperation. House settles back to finish his sandwich, dropping the conversation and watching her body start to shine with sweat as she twists on the bed. He watches until it's clear she's close, then turns it off.

She groans in frustration and jerks her head up to glare at him. House is nonchalant as he sets the empty plate on his dresser and crosses to sit beside her on the bed. "You look frustrated."

She squirms. "Yes."

House bends down to kiss her, sliding his tongue against hers. He pinches her nipple, than slides his hand lower. She bucks her hips as he again presses on the butterfly, grinding it against her clit. After a few moments of passionate kissing, he pulls his hand away, making her groan into his mouth. 

House reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out a blindfold. He fastens it securely over her eyes, and sets the vibe to medium. "Cameron, I'll be right back."

She feels the shift in the mattress as he rises. "What?" He doesn't answer her, but walks to the bedroom door, opens it, then shuts it with himself still inside. _I can't believe he left_… Then the vibe flips to high and all thought is temporarily impossible.

During this diversion, House stealthily reaches the chair and settles in to watch. She doesn't have much range of motion. She tries and fails to press her thighs together; rocks her hips, miming fucking. He enjoys the sights and sounds of her: writhing, panting, moaning. She comes loudly, "Oh _god_ House, oh my _god_," clearly trying to be heard in the next room.

House flips the vibrator off—his fears that this will give away his position are allayed by the volume of her cries. He gives her a few minutes to recover. Over time the rise and fall of her chest returns to normal, and he can see she's becoming concerned about his absence. He turns on the vibe at low, and smirks when she groans, "Oh, _House_." It's low enough that she can't have expected him to hear outside the bedroom, and he's pleased at the thought she says his name even when she thinks he can't hear it. He brings the control up to full over the course of half a minute.

Cameron is writhing on the bed now, her little hands fisted as she bucks her hips. House is not sure if she's trying to get away from the vibrations or get closer, but either way is really okay with him. Her lower lip is pulled between her teeth and her hair is in wild disarray from all her thrashing.

She's coming again, screaming his name and arching off the bed, frantically. "House _please_," she yells.

He turns the butterfly to its lowest setting, and steals quietly to the door, which he opens and closes. "Please?"

"_Please_ fuck me, please please please anything but just fuck me."

He walks to the bed, and she can feel it shift as he sits beside her. With his thumb he presses the butterfly hard against her clit, as he turns it up and shoves two fingers into her. "Like this?"

"No," she gasps.

"No?"

"No, please, I want you." She wriggles her hips away from him. "I want you to fuck me."

He turns off the vibe and unclasps it, tossing it aside on the bed. She writhes, arching toward him, panting heavily.

"House, please," she begs, tugging at her wrist restraints when he doesn't move fast enough. She can't see his urgency through the blindfold, so he pulls off his clothes as fast as possible. She is visibly calmed when she feels him move onto the bed.

Her entire body glows pink and damp. He slides his hands slowly up her inner thighs. "Tease," she hisses through clenched teeth.

"Hmm?" he asks as he pinches hard on her right nipple.

"Please, I said please!"

He laughs and twists, pinching a bit harder and making her squirm. "No you didn't."

"Well I'm saying it now!"

Without further delay, he pushes hard into her and is rewarded with her relieved sigh. She is impossibly wet: dripping. House has been anticipating this all day, which means he's already close. He fucks her slow and deep, as he bends to swirl his tongue around her nipple. He kisses his way up her neck, then kisses her passionately. She moans his name into his mouth, in that way that tells him she's almost there. He breaks the kiss and whispers in her ear, "I'm going to come the second you do," then sucks her earlobe between his lips.

"Oh _fuck_," she breathes. "So good…House!" Her climax hits her so hard she whimpers and tenses every muscle. He grasps her hips and manages a few more thrusts before coming hard, deep inside her, and collapsing against her limp frame.

He reaches up and unfastens her wrists first, then takes a moment to rub the sore muscles of her arms. He repeats this treatment on her legs. She is too tired to get up; she rolls onto her side to rest as he pulls the blanket over her. Only when he has slipped under the covers beside her and pulled her close does he gently remove her blindfold. She sighs happily and rubs her face against his chest.

He strokes her hair idly as he waits for her to fall asleep in his arms. She murmurs sleepily, "I think you were there all along."

He waits a moment to answer, until he thinks she's asleep. "How could I leave you?"


	11. Almost Too Dirty

**Almost Too Dirty**

Cameron can't help but turn her head to watch House as he drives, in hopes that he will somehow reveal what's going to happen. Occasionally he'll look over at her, see her curious expression and smile. She gets no clues from him.

_Earlier that day…_

Cameron wakes up alone to find clothes for the day laid out for her on the corner of the bed: a red print sundress, sandals, her collar, and her butterfly. She smiles. Should be an exciting morning.

By the time she's dressed she's already wet for him, and has to resist the urge to touch herself. She eagerly and comes out to find him in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He doesn't look up.

She clears her throat. Nothing.

"Good morning," she prompts him.

"Morning," he returns, and idly turns the page.

She pours a coffee and sits across from him. "So."

Finally he looks up at her. "So?"

"So…any plans for today?"

He shifts his gaze back to the paper, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "Game's at three."

"Oh," she says. "Right." Her brow furrows in confusion, but she knows he's not watching so there's no point. Obviously he's planned something; obviously he's not telling. She can't help but approve of the secrecy. She just hopes he won't make her wait too long for her surprise. 

oOo

He makes her wait too long.

Cameron spends a long, restless Saturday waiting for something to happen. Every time House moves she expects he's about to start something. She waits patiently until three, hoping against hope that "game" referred to his plans for her. These hopes are shattered when he plops in front of the TV with nachos and a beer.

"Football?!"

He smiles at her. "Was there a baseball game you wanted to watch? Playoffs? I didn't know you were a fan."

"I'm…not."

He can't hide his smirk. "This game should be good; I've been looking forward to this all week."

The length of the game provides her some mental rest: nothing will happen so she doesn't have to be ready. By the start of the fourth quarter she has relaxed, just in time for him to flip off the TV, drop the remote, and say, "Okay, time to go."

"What?"

"Time. To. Go."

"Where are we going?"

"Too many questions; get in the car." 

oOo

The sky is turning pink when House pulls down a disused lane, and her heart starts to race. He's taking her back to the secluded park. Images flash through her mind: things he did to her last time; things she wishes he'd done to her last time. She's dripping wet.

He pulls the car to an abrupt stop and says, "Wait here." House leaves her alone in the car and grabs a duffel from the trunk before opening her door. He snaps her leash to her collar and waits for her to get out of the car, then slams her door shut.

She expects he'll take her back to the table, but instead she follows him to seemingly the middle of nowhere. He drops the duffel unceremoniously and says, "Dress off," before bending to unpack.

She looks around, uncertain.

"Dress. Off." He gives a gentle tug on the leash to reinforce his words, and she slides the strapless dress down her body and steps out of it.

He pulls from the bag a collapsible camping stool, making her notice the level of detail in his plan. Nothing is an accident.

He slips the end of her leash around his wrist, then carries the duffel nearer to a huge tree. She's staring at the bark and thinking of the movie when he pulls a bed pillow from the bag and holds it up against the rough surface. She takes the hint and leans against the pillow, wrapping her arms behind her around the tree.

"Spread your legs."

Her eyes widen but she does what she's told. He adjusts the pillow, then steps behind the tree to tie her wrists together. Then ropes snake down from her hands to tie her feet, holding her lewdly splayed.

House walks back around the tree to survey his handy work. "Very fetching," he says as he unclips her leash. He leans against her to kiss her, pressing her hard against the tree. He pulls away and kisses her neck and his fingers glide up her side and then toy with her nipples.

It's intensely erotic, but she's still concerned. "House, anyone could see."

"Anyone but you, because you're going to close your eyes now, and not open them until I say. Do you understand?"

She sighs heavily, and lowers her eyelids. "Yes."

"Good girl," he whispers.

She feels him ease his weight off her, and the butterfly starts to buzz on her clit. "House!" she gasps.

"Shh…"

She feels him touch her. He forces one, then two fingers into her slippery pussy and turns the vibe to high. She's been waiting all day, and he won't make her wait any longer: she comes in seconds. When he feels her coming he stops and his hand and the vibe, and lets her rhythmically squeeze his fingers. Moments later when the spasms stop he returns the vibe to high, fucks her hard and fast with his hand to a second hard orgasm.

This time when he stops she is panting, breathless. He pulls his fingers from her and she feels them at her lips. He slowly pushes them into her mouth for her to lick clean, which she avidly does.

She can hear his steps on the twigs and leaves as he walks back to his stool to watch her. She almost opens her eyes by instinct, but catches herself just in time. She listens; tries to determine his next move.

Suddenly the vibe is on high.

Without his fingers inside her, the vibe is erotic torture. Without fucking her—without pressing it down hard to her clit—it _will_ make her come, but it will take a while. She wonders if he'll wait that long.

He does.

House sits and watches as Cameron becomes more and more affected by the vibrations at her clit. He watches her write against the tree, powerless to hurry things along—powerless to make the torture stop. Minutes tick by.

House rises from his seat and makes a carefully contrived amount of noise. Although his steps take him no more than ten feet from Cameron, he lets them get softer and softer so she'll think he's walking away. He watches her closely. Her head strains, but she doesn't open her eyes. Just as he had suspected, her face is turned toward the car as if she thinks that's where he's heading.

He silently pulls his car keys from his pocket. Last winter he'd had a remote start installed to save him the extra walk from his car to warm the engine each morning. Now he fingers the button as he watches Cameron moaning—close to coming but not quite there. It's almost too dirty.

He starts the car.

Cameron's eyes open in fear. He is the first thing she sees, only feet away, and her eyes slam back shut. Feeling the butterfly suddenly turn off is further proof that he noticed, not that she needs it. Her skin flushes even hotter anticipating what he'll do to her for that. But nothing happens. She breathes, listens…nothing.

Suddenly the butterfly is on high again.

That brief respite from sensation was what she needed. Now she comes instantly, calling his name, squirming against the rough trunk.

She feels House unclip the vibe first, then untie her. She waits to move until he pulls her gently away from the tree. He rubs the skin of her arms; massages her knees that have been held tense by the position.

House lifts her arms over her head and pulls on her dress, and only then tells her to open her eyes. At first it's hard to, her eyelids flutter as her eyes readjust to the twilight. She mutely follows him to the car, and doesn't manage another word on the ride home. 

oOo

As he follows her into the apartment he says, "Cameron, I saw you open your eyes."

She freezes, and feels her heart speed up. She had thought the scene was over; now she has no clue what he'll do. "Yes," she admits.

"Do you think you should get away with that?"

She swallows hard. "No."

"No." He walks up behind her and pulls the dress down over her breasts and ribcage; over her hips so it can sink to the floor. "Bend over the back of the couch."

Cameron steps over to it and gracefully bends to fold herself against the black leather. The first smack draws a startled gasp from her, but she holds herself quiet for the rest. The blows come quick and not too hard, noisy slaps that change location so they never really sting.

"When I tell you to do something, what do you do?" He smacks her again, a bit harder.

"I do what you tell me."

"Did you do what I told you?" _Smack_.

"No." _Smack_. 

"No you didn't," he agrees. He recommences smacking her, the small break serving only to heighten the sensation. When she can hold back no more—when each slap is making her release an aroused moan—he knows he's finished. He walks to the bedroom, sheds his clothes, and arranges himself on the bed. "Cameron!"

She pulls herself together and goes to him. In the doorway she pauses for directions, but he just stares into her eyes. She crawls onto the bed between his knees, never breaking eye contact. She looks down at his gorgeous erection and smiles. She can do whatever she wants to him.

Her tiny hand curls around the base, and she bends down to suck the head into her mouth. She strokes him, sucks him, and listens the contented sounds he makes. She looks up at him and watches his eyes on hers; she loves the way she can read in his stare that she affects him just as much as he does her. She holds this eye contact until the pleasure is to much for him, and his eyes roll back to the ceiling. She pulls him from her mouth with a sexy popping sound. She wants to fuck him.

Cameron carefully maneuvers to kneel beside him, and eases his thighs together. Now she straddles him, facing away. Her hand extends between her thighs to again grip his hard-on. She lowers herself as she guides him into her tight, hot cunt.

She thrusts herself back hard, and wonders why they've never tried reverse-cow girl before. He's right against her g-spot and there's no weight at all on his thigh. She grips fistfuls of the sheets and forces herself back onto his hard cock over and over. 

"_Fuck_," he sighs.

She cranes her neck back to see his face. "Good?"

"_So_ good. Don't stop."

She feels his hands on her hips, encouraging her to go faster, more forcefully, and she does. She bounces enthusiastically, fucking herself deeper and harder. Her fingers find her clit and rub hard. When she feels him coming inside her, it drags her over the edge.

Cameron carefully pulls away from him and crawls up to kiss him. She pulls up the blanket and arranges herself against his left side. As she nestles in to sleep, all she can think is how lucky she is that he's hers.


	12. Punished

**Punished**

House's leg wakes him and her rolls over to glare at the clock. Eight thirty-seven a.m. "Perfect," he grumbles. The one day a week he can sleep in, and it's shot. He grabs the orange pill bottle from the night stand and pops two as he walks to the bathroom.

He stands under the spray and lets it beat down on him for a long time, until the hot water and narcotics work their magic. Finally he soaps up. He winces as he washes his back, then remembers that Cameron got a little out of hand the night.

As he towels off he checks his back in the mirror. He expects marks, but he's shocked when he sees the red gouges criss-crossing his back. "She ripped me to shreds…"

He stares into the mirror at what she did to him, getting hotter and harder by the second. He wraps the towel around his waist and hurries to the bedroom.

He has the first wrist cuff buckled on before she wakes up. She doesn't really rouse until he's clipping the cuffs to the long black spreader bar. "What's going on?" she mumbles sleepily.

"You're being punished. Do you know what you've done?"

Cameron shivers with desire so strong her thighs press together of their own accord. She locks her ankles and stretches, testing the strength of her bonds. They're secure. "No I don't."

"That you have no idea is reason enough to punish you all by itself." He grabs her ankles in turn and presses her knees to her stomach so he can hook her feet behind the bar. Now she is lewdly splayed and immobilized. She grimaces as the bar stretches her muscles, then relaxes so the pull of the bar on her wrist cuffs holds the weight of her legs.

"Do you know what you've done yet?" He spanks her neatly presented ass.

"Ow! No."

He smacks the other cheek. "Now?"

"No, please!"

He spanks her again, two hard slaps and pauses to watch his hand prints redden on her skin. "Please what?"

"Please," she takes a deep breath. "Please tell me what I did so I won't do it again."

He turns and reveals his back to her. "If you can't keep your hands to yourself, you don't get to use them."

"Oh my god." Her eyes trace the red scratches that mark his back, and she feels her pussy muscles spontaneously contract. It's incredibly hot. "Wow…"

"That didn't sound much like 'I'm sorry' to me," he warns.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out. 

Without warning he pushes two fingers deep into her, and she lets out a satisfied groan. "No, you're not." He slides the fingers almost all the way out, the curls them into her, hard. "But you will be."

He uses his fingers expertly, and within minutes he has her thrashing and moaning, on the edge of orgasm. "Cameron, are you close?"

"So close," she pants.

"I thought so." He slides his hand out of her, and stares into her scandalized eyes as he slowly licks his fingers. "Mmm. That's enough I think."

"Please?"

He shakes his head as he unhooks her legs from the bar and rubs the soreness from her thighs. "Do you think you deserve more?"

She looks askance, and her tone is completely disappointed. "No."

"Kneel on the floor."

House watches as she awkwardly maneuvers off the bed and kneels on the floor before him. She lifts the bar behind her head so the weight can rest on her shoulders. He opens his towel and sits on the edge of the bed.

She doesn't need to be told what he wants, but she does meet his eyes to be sure she has permission to move. At his slight nod she crawls forward and leans in to slip the head of his cock into her mouth.

It's much harder than she thought it would be. She has never noticed before how much of her weight is supported by her hands when she does this. Now to raise and lower her head on his shaft she has to bow with her whole body. Within seconds she is flushed and exhausted with the effort of it, but she doesn't allow herself to slow down. She looks up at him with pleading eyes.

"You need help?"

She nods with his erection in her mouth, and he gathers up her hair into a ponytail and uses it as a handle. His other hand cradles the back of her head, his fingers on the slick spreader bar. He pulls her forward and back, rocking on her knees as he fucks her mouth. When he's about to come he lets go of her to stroke himself, and she holds her mouth open to catch his warm come on her tongue. Some misses it's mark, landing on her chin. This he wipes off with his thumb, which she then eagerly licks off.

House leaves her to kneel while he dresses. Next he pulls her to her feet and helps her to dress herself. He chooses a halter top, so as not to interfere with the spreader bar, then helps her step into panties and drawstring pants. He looks her over and is pleased with the effect. He kisses her chastely on the lips and says, "Coffee. I'll get the paper."

He walks out first. She turns sideways to make her way out of the bedroom, and walks slowly and carefully to the kitchen.

Making his coffee is a challenge, but it's totally do-able. House brings in the paper, but never actually looks at it. His eyes can't help but follow Cameron as she cautiously maneuvers around the kitchen. The spreader bar keeps her arms straight out at shoulder height. To pick up the coffee pot she must bend her knees and drop a few feet. Then she turns and flips on the tap with her left hand, then spins 180 degrees to fill it. She turns again to flip open the top of the coffee maker, spins 180 degrees to pour the water into the machine. When she has the coffee percolating, she pauses and looks to him for further instruction.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

Cameron's eyes dart to the side and she opens her mouth as she considers her answer. She _is_ hungry, but if she admits it, will he make her cook? It's awkward enough that she'd rather skip breakfast. Before she can answer, he's read her mind.

"You're hungry."

She sighs. "Yes."

"What would you like for breakfast?"

She reaches for something she couldn't possibly make in restraints. "Um, pancakes." She wouldn't be able to hold the bowl while she stirred the batter.

"Nice try. You can make Eggo waffles," he instructs her.

The biggest challenge in preparing the waffles is the twist-tie that seals the bag. House smiles as he watches; she's so sexy when she's frustrated.

While the waffles are in the toaster she sets out the butter and syrup. She first tries reaching up into the cabinet for a plate, and finds it impossible. Then she remembers the clean dishes in the dishwasher. These are much easier to reach, and she gives House a triumphant smile as bends to the side for one.

Since she will not be able to feed herself, she serves the waffles on one plate. They are ready just as she pours his coffee. She carefully perches next to him, and House dresses the waffles and cuts them into bites. He extends the fork and she daintily accepts her breakfast from him.

When the food is gone he drains his coffee, then turns and kisses her. When he pulls away she falls forward a bit. He catches her and sits her back up, his hand lingering on her breast longer than is required. She is completely unsubtle in the way she now presses against his hand, and he slides it under the halter top to play with her nipple. She starts to squirm in her seat.

Her top gets in his way; he removes it. Now he is trailing his fingers over both breasts, kissing her earlobe, her neck. There is a rattling sound as she strains against the spreader bar, trying unsuccessfully to touch him.

His hands fall to undo her drawstring, and he pulls her to her feet so she can slip out of her clothes. He poses her before him, arms spread by the bar and legs spread so he can reach between her thighs and massage her clit. She loves the way he's making her feel: dirty. Naughty.

She squeezes her muscles around his fingers, silently begging for more. He kisses her, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he roughly forces three fingers into her tight cunt. She moans into his mouth. House quickly brings her to the brink, but once again stops his hand before she can come.

This time she tips her head back and growls in frustration. He feels her rhythmicly squeezing his motionless fingers. Trying to come with out his help. He slides out of her and stands up. He leaves the room, and she can do nothing but follow.

She watches as he strips and lies on his back, propped on pillows. She awkwardly crawls onto the bed. Cameron straddles him, rubs herself against him. He doesn't help her, just smiles at her frustration as she tries to angle herself to get his hard cock inside her. The superficial contact is an agonizing torment until she's able to impale herself on his erection.

House watches her fucking him. She towers above him, balanced with her arms still stretched at shoulder height. Her breasts shake tantalizingly as she rocks herself onto him, hard and fast, desperate to come.

"Cameron, make sure you stop before you come."

She shakes her head and fucks him harder. "No."

House reaches up with both hands and pinches her nipples. "What?"

"Ohhhh god…" He twists them harder. "Unghhh." She stops moving completely, his cock buried deep inside her. After a few moments he releases her nipples, and she starts to move above him again.

She fucks him as hard and fast as she can, until her skin is glistening with exertion and she's panting. Once again she can feel her orgasm building deep inside her belly. "Please, may I come?"

"Not yet."

She freezes. She takes a moment to relax, to let her heavy breathing slow down. She watches him watching her and smiles. She's pleasing him, and it's what she craves most of all.

When she starts to move again it's slower, more controlled. It's not what would get her off fastest now—her goal is to make him need to come, and maybe he'll let her join him. She slides up slowly, using her body to squeeze him tight. Each stroke is ripping an involuntary groan from him. She increases her pace, building up to and reaching the fastest and hardest she can fuck him. Her thighs are shaking, if he says no this time she'll have to disobey him. "Please, _please_ may I come?"

"Fuck yes," he groans as he shoots his thick come into her, dragging her over the edge. She keeps moving, slowing as he shrinks inside her. She rises up to kneel tall over him, and pulls the bar over her head. She can't hold it up anymore, and sags to a heap on the bed.

House unclips her wrists from the bar and pulls her sweaty, exhausted form against his. He kisses her forehead and closes his eyes; sleeps the weekend away like he had wanted to.v


	13. Forced

**Forced**

House had been pleasantly surprised when she brought him add she'd printed off the internet.

_"You're not worried about someone recognizing you there?"_

"Well I figure that anyone there is probably also_ shopping for pretty hardcore stuff. Nothing to be shy about."_

Not surprisingly, there is no one they recognize in the sex toy shop. House watches as Cameron's eyes widen to take in all the products. It is as she described it, "pretty hardcore," and he can tell from the way squeezes his hand that she's already getting turned on. "You can pick out one present," he tells her.

"We're only getting one thing?"

"_You_ are only _choosing_ one thing," he clarifies.

She laughs and kisses him on the cheek, and he lets her hand slip from his so she can lead the way through the store.

He follows a few steps behind so he can watch her. She is adorably curious about everything; she picks things up and puts them down. She mocks some of the more serious items: some things are definitely out of their league. Occasionally her reaction surprises the hell out of him. She holds up a butt plug with leather strands coming out of it, like a pony's tail, and whispers, "Hot, right?"

Instantly he pictures her naked, on her knees. "It is," he agrees.

She swishes it through the air against her thighs. "But you might want to use it like that, and I like your hand best."

"Do you."

"Mhmm," she answers coyly, and drops the toy. She moves on.

She spends a long time looking at the vibrating nipple clams, and he figures that it's what she'll come back to in the end. She looks at the paddles and riding crops, and even tries out a few, but his guess that she won't pick one of these is correct. When she finally does choose, he congratulates himself on making her pick something out herself, because he would have never guessed she'd want to try that.

"This is my present." She extends the red ball gag by it's black leather strap.

He feels slightly faint as blood rushes from his head. He steps closer and takes it from her. He puts his hand on her throat over her collar, not squeezing—just holding her there. He speaks low, playfully warning, for only her to hear. "No one will hear you scream."

"I know," she whispers.

"Let's make sure you like it. Hold up your hair." After he buckles it on, she lets down her hair and arranges it on her shoulders. "Well?"

She nods.

"Do you want me to take it off?"

Her eyes dart left than right as she considers his question. She shakes her head. 

oOo

The fact that she can't speak somehow works to dissolve House's inhibitions. It's much easier to talk dirty than usual, a fact he takes advantage of during the entire drive home. The result is that by the time they pull up her panties are saturated.

Luckily for Cameron's modesty the street is dark and deserted, and no one sees House leading her inside gagged.

The second she is inside Cameron follows the instructions she received in the car. She strips quickly and brings him the wrist and ankle restraints, the blindfold already on her forehead. He buckles them on. Cameron lies as he directed, and he ties her down tightly: wrists to corners of the headboard, then those ropes come down to each ankle, so her knees are bent and spread as far as possible.

He bends and kisses her forehead. "You ok?"

She nods vigorously.

He holds up his hands with his fingers widely splayed, the way a small child would indicate 'ten.' "Safeword."

She nods her understanding.

"Let's see you do it."

Cameron's fingers snap wide apart.

"Good girl."

She lets her hands relax again.

Cameron lifts her head off the pillow so she can watch House undress. She gives a little moan around the gag when she sees how hard he is already. She wants him in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the ball and she's already thrilled with her present—she comes much harder with something to suck on. She's throbbing with anticipation, and he can tell.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you."

She can't answer, but she hums against the gag and lifts her ass off the mattress.

"Not yet."

She moans her disappointment, then watches avidly as he approaches her and lies on his side next to her. He runs his hand over her belly, her ribs, then teasingly over her breast. Cameron shivers, and her nipple becomes erect. He repeats this treatment on the other side as he sucks the hardened nipple between his lips and tugs, watching for her reaction. She moans and squirms in obvious delight. He continues to play with her breasts until both nipples are extremely hard and she is moaning almost continuously.

He pauses to reach into the bedside drawer, and pulls out two clothespins. He loves the way her eyes widen and she swallows at the sight. He clips the first one on gently, slowly easing on the pressure as she moans, then lets her get used to it for a moment. The second one he just clips on quickly, and she jerks and makes a surprised squeak. He flicks the first impromptu nipple clamp experimentally, and is excited by the protesting sound she makes. He flicks them each in turn, making her thrash a bit against the ropes. 

House kneels between her spread thighs and takes in the erotic site of her: hard pink nipples pinched by the wood of the clothespins; bound, gagged, and helpless. Completely at his disposal. He runs his hand down her thighs and up her hips and back, alternating between gentle trails and grazing her with his fingernails. With each pass he comes closer and closer to her center, until he is occasionally brushing a finger or thumb over her damp folds.

He pulls the blindfold over her eyes.

Cameron adjusts to the fact she can no longer see. After a moment House begins again to slide his hands all over her legs, occasionally darting over her wet, swollen lips. Now that she's in the dark her other senses heighten. His touch has more detail, and she is more aware of the sound and speed of her breathing. She can't remember ever having been this turned on.

Suddenly she feels him plunge his fingers into her, and she loudly moans her approval.

As House fucks her with his hand, he listens to her never ending moaning against the gag, and lets that inform him of what she likes. He wiggles his middle finger as fast as he can against his index fingers, locks his elbows and drills into her as fast as he can. Within moments he can feel her rhythmically clamping around his fingers.

He holds his hand motionless inside her, and watches as she slumps to motionless, breathes slower and deeper. He can still feel the aftershocks; she is still tight around him. He waits with his fingers still deep inside her tight hot cunt.

As soon as her orgasm has passed, House starts wiggling his fingers again. She moans low and exhales hard, clearly enjoying the sensation. She's still very tight around him, but he starts to shallowly slide his fingers in and out, slowly fucking her. Soon he has built back up to shoving into her as fast as he can, and she is back to one long moan. 

He doesn't stop.

Again and again House forces Cameron to orgasm, giving her almost no respite between. It starts to take longer and longer between each as she becomes over stimulated. She starts to thrash her head from side to side; it becomes clear that the word she's repeatedly moaning unintelligibly is 'stop.'

He locks his elbow and fucks her hard and fast. Her hands are balled into tight fists, if she meant 'stop' those hands would be telling him so. She comes again, screaming against the gag, ribs heaving with her panting.

He lets her have a few minutes off, but only long enough for him to find and clip-on her butterfly vibe. Now she is begging "Please please please please please" against the gag, but he doesn't turn it down. He moves between her knees and pushes into her pussy, already so slippery from her repeated orgasms.

He feels her come again around his cock after only a few minutes, and he pushes her blindfold off her eyes. Her eyelids flutter against the open air, and it takes her a few moments to regain the ability to focus them. When he's sure she's watching, he pulls off one of her clothespins and replaces it with his lips, swirling his tongue over the reddened flesh. He repeats this with the other side.

When she spasms around him a second time, House knows he's close to losing control. He gives her a few strokes to ride it out, the slips out of her. He kneels above her, stroking his wet erection until hot come lands on the smooth skin of her tummy. He leaves it there.

House eases himself to lie on his stomach. Her bound position holds her pretty pussy wide open for him, and he intends to take advantage. He presses the flat of his tongue against her clit, then roughly forces two fingers into her. 

It must be good, because Cameron begins to squirm. House wraps his left hand under her bent knee and tightly grips her thigh, holding her in place. He relentlessly uses his hand and mouth to make Cameron come again and again, not pausing at all. He keeps his eyes glued to her, watching her reactions.

Cameron is past _It's too good you have to stop_; she can no longer think. House is making her body do things she wouldn't have thought possible. Every time she is convinced she couldn't come again, he proves her wrong. When he brings her to the edge one last time she feels the blood drain from her head, and blacks out.

House had been watching and notices immediately. He checks her respiration, pulse: she's fine. He unbuckles the gag and tips her head back to allow her to breathe more freely. He has just finished untying her when she starts to come around.

"How's my girl?"

She blinks blearily at him and presses her legs together; shivers. "Oh my god," she breathes.

"That good huh?"

"Mmmm, amazing."

He turns off the bedroom light and climbs into bed with her, arranges her against him like a perfect two-piece puzzle. As she falls asleep in his arms he wonders what it will take to feel like he's given her enough, if he could make her come till she passes out and still wants to give her more.


End file.
